these things that friends are for
by Kelly123
Summary: "i wouldn't hold myself to be no kind of man unless i told you how i felt"  ONE- SHOT


_I don't have much to say about this one...it's pretty open-ended and exceeding short (sorry!).  
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_The first scene popped into my head while I was babysitting awhile ago, but now I haven't the slightest as to what sparked the idea, or what to do with it. Huh. So I'm just gonna throw it out here, and see what happens. Maybe I'll do more, but I honestly doubt it (such a tease!).  
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_Anywho, what I do know is that it reminds me of Seven Brides for Seven Brothers, which is one of my all-time favorite movies that everyone should see._

_And I own nothing, so please, enjoy!_

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><p>"<em><strong>Today I'm ashamed of you. Now I know you can lick me, lick the tar outta me! But I wouldn't hold myself no kinda man unless I showed ya how I felt!"<strong>_

_**-Gideon, to Adam.  
><strong>_

Now, Ron Weasley was no stranger to pain.

He was, after all, the youngest boy of seven children, and had provided quite useful to his older brothers as somewhat of a punching bag throughout the years. To sum things up, he had had taken blows to the stomach (Bill said it didn't hurt... but it did), wrestled and pinned to the ground (Charlie said he needed the practice), hit in the head with books (Percy said to _leave him alone_), hung by his underwear from the top of the Burrow's gutter (Fred and George said...well, they said he better not tell Mum or next time they would hang him by his...anyway) and of course, bitten time and time again (as a general rule, Ginny hurt even worse than the gnomes). Between the brothers, sister, gnomes, and Mrs. Weasley wielding a wooden spoon, life at the Burrow could be quite bruising.

And he was also the best friend of Harry James Potter (the boy who, if you hadn't heard, lived). He had fought rancid trolls, chilling dementors, snarling werewolves and bloodthirsty death-eaters. He had dodged (and not quite dodged) curses, jinxes and hexes while managing to shoot back a couple of his own. He had endured unforgivables _and_ said best friend snogging his baby sister, both of which he preferred not to think and/or talk about. He had faced death, stood on its rocky precipice, and just barely been snatched back from the edge, the process of which had not been what he would call comfortable.

And let us not fail to mention that he had quite possibly been in love with his other best friend (the girl one) from the moment he saw her. It had taken him a long time to realize that strange sensation which overtook him when he saw _her_ with (bloody, sodding) Krum had been the equivalent of pain, but when he did, he would have gladly taken his chances with the aforementioned circumstances rather than have to endure that feeling again.

But somehow, none of it, neither the sibling afflictions, or deadly circumstances, or self-induced stupidity, quite measured up to this.

There was thud and a pop, the crackle of bone on bone muffled by a buffering of skin but still sickeningly recognizable.

And then his nose was crooked and swelling quickly, sticky crimson cascading down his chin and spattered onto the front of his jumper. His mouth flew open in muted shock, and some of the liquid ran over his lips, sharply metallic on his tied tongue. The taste was familiar enough, but he couldn't get his mind to wrap around it. There was...blood in his mouth, but why, why was there blood?

Harry's fist quivered in the air in between them, and they both stared at it as though it belonged to someone else, more stunned by what it had done, what _Harry_'_s_ fist had actually done...than the consequences of its collision with Ron's face.

To say it hurt would be an understatement. Though strangely, the real pain was emanating from somewhere deep within his chest, his nose stinging a bit in comparison.

"Bloody hell." Ron muttered under his breath, spitting out droplets of blood from his mouth when he could finally string enough coherent thoughts to make up a sentence. At the sound Harry sighed and dropped his arm back down to his side, though his fingers remained tightly curled in on one another.

"I know you love her." He said suddenly, unable to keep his voice from shaking the smallest bit.

Ron blinked, several times actually, caught off-guard by the words his companion had just spoken. Truly, some part of him had halfway been expecting an apology to come out of Harry's mouth but then, when he gave it a second thought, he should have seen it, this, coming. Of their own accord, his eyes flickered to the door, the one that separated the two of them from where she lay sleeping. Harry's followed, but they stayed trained on the heavy wooden paneling long after Ron turned his gaze back to the boy (man?) before him. He took in the dark circles under his green eyes, the stubble which had gathered along his jaw, muscles clenched tightly beneath it. He took in the exhaustion on his features, and the anger just beneath the surface, and the fear somewhere in between. He could see it all, and could tell that it was his fault. He was the one bleeding, and yet, it was (undeniably) his own fault.

It usually was.

"I do." He whispered back, trying to put every bit of what he felt for her into those two words as Harry turned his tired eyes back to him.

"And she loves you, entirely more than someone as smart as her should, obviously."

He could not in any way dispute this, and so what could he do but agree. "Obviously."

"And I love you both."

That troublesome ache in his chest gave an exceptionally sharp pang at that one, and dropping his eyes he swiped at his tender nose distractedly. His throat, thick with emotion, wouldn't let him voice an answer for that one. He would die for them, Harry and Hermione, without a doubt...and he knew that they would do the same for him. It was (had been for awhile now) a feeling so heavy in the air between the three of them that it almost tangible, completely understood and yet utterly unspoken. Except now it had been, spoken, that is, and he didn't know what to do about it. Luckily, Harry didn't wait for him to reply.

"And you may be my best mate, but you bloody deserved that Ron."

Harry had a point.

"I'll do it again, I swear on my life...no, on _your_ life because it means more to me, I will. You do that to her, hurt her like that one more time..." He trailed off, and Ron was glad for it. He took the opportunity to get a word in while Harry composed himself.

"I'm sorry, Harry." He said, laying a tentative hand on his friend's arm, pulling it back uncertainly when he felt Harry tense under his touch. His nose was not quite feeling up for a repeat of what had happened just moments ago.

"I know you are." He replied with a bitter sort of laugh, but a laugh nonetheless. "You always are Ron, but that doesn't make it okay. It's not okay, not right now...but it will be. Somehow, it always is."

Ron managed an uncertain smile, though the stretching of his face caused a sharp pain to shoot through his nose. "I hope so."

"Even though you don't deserve it."

"I don't."

"I'm not sorry I hit you."

"I know." He dug his hands into his pockets, letting out a deep breath before he spoke again. "And Harry?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

Harry shook his head, running a hand with swollen and bruising knuckles his unruly hair. "Completely mental. You two are perfect for each other."

"That's what I'm counting on."

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><p><em>Not really sure when this scenario takes place, or why, or any specifics about it really. Maybe it is back at Hogwarts, or during the Horocrux hunt, or in the aftermath...you can draw your own conclusions about all that, feel free! And let me know!<br>_


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